


The Ancient and Honorable Art of Football

by Basingstoke



Category: Andromeda
Genre: Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-05
Updated: 2004-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story from a happier time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ancient and Honorable Art of Football

He'd started out bouncing the ball off the wall with his hands. But that, like everything else, got boring, and now he was doing a headstand kicking it with his feet.

"Andromeda! Are you sure you don't have something I can fix?" Harper called out.

"No! And don't you dare break anything."

"What would you do if I did?"

"Do you want to find out?"

"Well..." Harper thought about it. "Lovely ladies beating the crap out of me--"

"_No_."

"Okay, okay." Harper cartwheeled back to his feet and tried bouncing the ball off his forehead instead. It didn't work so well.

"That echoes three corridors away," Tyr said, turning the corner. He leaned against the wall and flickered his eyes over Harper. "What are you playing?"

"The ancient and honorable sport of football." Harper kicked the small red ball at Tyr, who bounced it neatly off his thigh into his hand. "No, see, you're doing it wrong already. You don't touch the ball with your hands."

"Ah." Tyr dropped the ball and kicked it back to Harper. Harper caught it in his instep and batted it between his feet.

"I try to bounce it off, um, that wall at the end of the corridor behind you, and you try to bounce it off the wall behind me, and neither of us can touch it with our hands, and the one with the most points at the end wins. Each wall-thingy is a point. And... after each point we pick a new hallway. And if you hit another crew member, especially Dylan, you lose. Got it?"

Tyr raised one eyebrow. "Why does it sound as if you're making this up as you go along?"

"Okay, fine, it's the ancient sport of Harperball. Happy?"

Tyr raised the other eyebrow. "Ancient?"

"I'm an old soul." Harper bounced the ball from toe to toe. "Okay, on your mark..." He stepped on the ball between them. Tyr crouched down, looking predatory, but hell if Harper was going to let a little thing like _that_ deter him. "Go!--ACK!" he squawked as Tyr picked him up bodily, lifting him a foot or so into the air, and kicked the ball neatly down the corridor. Harper heard it bounce off the metal wall covering.

Tyr set him down. Harper glared at him. "Okay, that was definitely NOT allowed!"

Tyr smirked slightly. "You didn't mention it in the rules."

"You. You are going _down_." Harper whirled and stalked down the corridor. "You! Right side. I'm on the left."

"That's an artery corridor," Tyr observed, "half a kilometer long."

Harper looked over his shoulder, then back at Tyr, narrowing his eyes in ruthless competition. "_I'm_ game."

"As am I, of course. I simply wasn't sure if the ancient sport of Harperball had any restrictions to the size of the court, to accommodate the..." His eyes darted up and down Harper again.

Harper cut him off. "Get _set_. And GO!" And this time he was prepared, and flashed Tyr with his pocket lamp as he darted his foot out to capture the ball.

Tyr _was_ blinded for a second but recovered quickly, stepping on the ball as Harper tried to bounce it off the side of the corridor. Harper just kicked it from under his foot instead and darted around Tyr as he lost his balance. He gave the ball another kick with all the power he had, sending it rocketing down the corridor.

His head was enveloped in something. Smelled like cinnamon and engine lubricant--Tyr's vest. He shook it off his head in time to see Tyr sprinting shirtless down the hall.

He didn't chase--he stood right where he was and waited, and sure enough, Tyr kicked the ball as he turned. Harper flung himself in the way so that it bounced off his chest.

He recaptured the ball and batted it between his feet as Tyr jogged cautiously back up the corridor. "Come and get it, big boy!" Harper crowed.

Tyr frowned and backed up again. Harper ran a few steps up the corridor, keeping the ball between his feet--he'd had _practice_ at this, it really _was_ an ancient if not all that honorable sport--then danced a step or two back to fake Tyr out before sending the ball skimming down the center of the hall. Tyr tried to block it but failed, and the ball made it nearly to the end wall before getting stuck in a doorway.

Tyr turned to chase it; Harper hadn't stopped running, and leaped onto his shoulders. If Tyr was going to be Running Man, then Harper was coming with him. "This is legal?" Tyr said, shaking himself vigorously.

Harper clung like a barnacle. "So, I'll count that first point."

"As well you should." Tyr took off running, occasionally bouncing off a wall to try to dislodge Harper. Harper just locked his arms and growled against Tyr's shoulder.

Tyr skidded to a stop by the ball and would have kicked it, except that Harper hooked both legs around Tyr's thigh. If Tyr shifted his weight enough to kick, he'd fall over.

So, Tyr fell over on purpose. Harper felt his weight shift in time to brace himself but not to let go; he landed on his back with Tyr's shoulder blade pounding the breath out of him.

He heard the ball bounce off the wall. "Point for me."

Harper lay in the middle of the floor, arms outflung.

He heard Tyr's footsteps approach. "Are you all right?"

Harper concentrated on breathing.

"Harper?"

Breathe. In, out.

"Harper, answer me." Tyr slapped his cheek lightly.

Harper caught Tyr's arm and yanked, sending Tyr ass over teakettle. He scrambled down the hall. "Right-left-ready-set-GO--"--and he kicked the ball--"HAH--ohcrap."

Dylan rubbed his chest, looking disgruntled.

"Heh. Hi, boss."

"I'm not even going to ask," Dylan said, and tossed the ball back to Harper. Harper stuffed the ball into a thigh pocket, looking sheepish as Dylan passed him.

Tyr leaned against the wall. "That was a shamefully old trick--and you lost anyway."

"Hey, it _worked_. Mostly."

"It did indeed. The shame is all mine." Tyr offered his hand.

Harper took it--and Tyr pulled him into his arms, into a headlock. "Hey! HEY! Hands off!"

"What do I win?"

"One week of me not fooling with the temperature controls in your cabin," Harper said, squirming for all he was worth.

"That's not an entirely satisfactory prize."

"Me not biting the bejesus out of your arm?"

Tyr's arm tightened. "Let's go investigate your cabin, shall we?" He started walking, dragging Harper along with him.

"Kidnapping! Brutality! Oppression!" Harper yelped.

"A game is a game," Andromeda replied. "The prize was rightfully won."

"And you too!" Harper said.

Andromeda just laughed.

THE END.

 

All comments are welcome.


End file.
